


In the Night

by bloodscout



Series: The Friends of Asexuals, Bisexuals and other Crap [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodscout/pseuds/bloodscout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right now, Bahorel is draped over Feuilly, pressing the swells of the ginger man’s chest nearly flat, and snoring into his ear. He is blissfully aware what effect he was having on the region around Feuilly’s crotch. So unaware, even, that he occasionally rocks against it in his sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my asexy April fics. Thanks to Simon/mercuryhatter for this pairing (?)

Bahorel is hot. There was very little else to say about it. He was sexy, gorgeous, arse-spankingly good looking; if there was a word for attractive, Bahorel is its personification.

 

And Feuilly can’t have sex with him.

 

Right now, Bahorel is draped over Feuilly, pressing the swells of the ginger man’s chest nearly flat, and snoring into his ear. He is blissfully aware what effect he was having on the region around Feuilly’s crotch. So unaware, even, that he occasionally rocks against it in his sleep.

 

Feuilly isn’t unaware. _So_ far from unaware. Every time Bahorel shifts, or rolls, or heck, even _breathes_ , he hisses out a harsh breath, feeling the muscles of his abdomen clench. It feels like all his nerves have moved to his dick, however physically impossible that may be.

 

And hour later, and it has become too much.

 

“Oh my god, you fucker, wake _up_ already!” He yells into the dark room, and starts ineffectually pushing at the larger man. Eventually, Bahorel groans, and rolls over. After a beat, where Feuilly thinks that Bahorel has gone back to sleep, the larger man speaks. “Was I crushing you?” he mumbles, tongue heavy and uncooperative.

 

“Not exactly, no.” Feuilly growls, perhaps a little too acerbic.

 

Bahorel pushs himself up, looking over at his boyfriend. “What’s wrong.”

 

“You’re so-” Feuilly feels himself go red up to the tips of his hair, and stops. “Never mind, we’ll talk in the morning.”

 

Bahorel takes a few moments to stare at his boyfriend, before leaning across and kissing his boyfriend. “Okay.” He allows, and curls up on his side again. “G’night.”

 

~~~

 

Feuilly is being a petulant little fuck, he knows. He hates it, feels it like a knife in his spine. He just _really_ needs someone to touch him. And he needs that someone to be Bahorel. With his stupid wide palms and calloused fingers and dumb smirk and his _idiotic_ damn _tongue_ –

 

“You wanted to talk?”

 

Feuilly sighs. “I just… I’m not dealing with…” he waves a hand vaguely between their dicks. “The lack of rubbing and grunting.”

 

Bahorel snorts. “Lovely choice of words, little one.”

 

Feuilly frowns, because, no, maybe it wasn’t. “Focus on the issue.”

 

Bahorel bites his lip, and sighs. “I can’t fuck you, Feuilly. I’m sorry.”

 

His concern is clear on his face, and Feuilly feels it like a heavy burden trapped in his chest. The resigned note that is louder than Bahorel’s actual words weighs even heavier, and he feels his throat constrict. He is stupid, so fucking stupid.

 

Feuilly shoves his hand over Bahorel’s mouth, and vaults over to him on the couch, until the other man’s knees bracket his hips. Their foreheads knock together, and if it were anybody else, Feuilly would be worried he’d hurt them. As it is, he’s seen Bahorel take so many hits to the head that by now he’s pretty sure Bahorel’s skull is pure steel. Feuilly presses his lips to Bahorel’s through his palm, running his fingers over the shaved sides of Bahorel’s head, and feeling the way it tickles his skin.

 

“No, I’m sorry.” Feuilly mumbles, slipping his hand away. “I shouldn’t try to change you. I like as much of you as I have. I don’t need more.”

 

Bahorel grins, and bites down on Feuilly’s lip. “Sap.” He admonishes, and dove in for a kiss.

 

When they break for air, Feuilly’s lips now thoroughly swollen, Bahorel pins his boy to the floor. Feuilly laughs, chest heaving against the compression of his binder.

 

“You should have let me finish, though, love.” Bahorel tells him, letting his weight push Feuilly down into the floor. “I said I couldn’t fuck you.”

 

Feuilly rolls his eyes. “And I said it’s okay.”

 

Bahorel laughs, and Feuilly feels it vibrate through him. “God, let me finish!” he chuckles, grin audible in his voice. “I was going to say that – if you wanted to, of course – I could touch you.”

 

Feuilly feels his eyes bug, and a thrill run down his spine. Suddenly Bahorel’s weight on him feels much better. “Really?” he asks in a rush of breath. “You’d do that for me?”

 

Bahorel’s face morphs into a mischievous smirk. “Of course, little one.”

 

Feuilly blows out a heavy breath, and it ruffles Bahorel’s hair. “Sure?”

 

Bahorel smacks the side of his boyfriend’s head, both grinning. “’Course.” Feuilly’s eye widen even more, and he tries to push the law student onto the floor, but Bahorel goes in for another kiss. “Love you so much.”

 

“Yeah, love you too, you arsehole."


End file.
